You scoff at the thought of welcoming an artificial tree into your home. It's lifeless, papery needles are like little slivers of yuletide tomfoolery, you say.
You'd rather pack up the family Clark Griswold-style and head to the forest belting "O, Tannenbaum" at the top of your merry lungs.
You want to feel the weathered handle of an axe in your hands and the jolt the old girl gives you the moment it sinks its stubborn blade into the backside of an Eastern Red cedar. Or, you prefer the high-pitched wail of a chainsaw thrashing it's way through the sweet-smelling pine that will soon grace your home.
You sir or ma'am, are a Christmas lumberjack, born and bred for the moment when that deep green beauty of a tree makes its graceful fall onto…